


Sweet Child O' Mine

by What_They_Call_Me



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Jason Todd's Biological Father, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Identity Porn, Jason Todd was a Prostitute, Past Child Abuse, Underage Prostitution, Young Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28460472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/What_They_Call_Me/pseuds/What_They_Call_Me
Summary: Jason Todd, nine years old and picked up for prostitution, finds out that his biological father is none other than Bruce Wayne, the richest man in Gotham. But Jason quickly finds that Wayne Manor is holding secrets, and Jason is going to figure them all out, before he allows himself to feel safe in this place
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 43
Kudos: 468





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are references to child prostitution in this chapter, they are not graphic or super explicit but they are there. There is also a scene with vomit, and talk of food insecurity.

Nine is too old to get money for just being cute. Sure Jason was still small, small enough that if he really wanted he could pass for a seven or eight year old, but people’s eyes seemed to glaze over him. As if they could see the corruption in his soul. So of course Jason had to get…  _ creative  _ when it came to getting money.

He hadn’t expected for Gotham PD to care, because Gotham PD never cares. But just Jason’s luck that he took an undercover cop's proposition for a blowjob in a back alley, and got slapped with cuffs. He hadn’t expected a plump social worker to insist on running his DNA through a database to try and find any living family.

Jason had always hated social workers, they never listened to him. He had dealt with social workers before, back when his mom was alive. Sometimes they would come over, after nights that Willis was too loud and too drunk, and they would try and take him away. They all promised the same things, a better life, a safe and warm place to sleep, but really all they were doing was trying to take him away from his family. 

Jason sat in an interrogation room, knee bouncing up and down, flipping off the two way mirror. He hoped that there were actually cops on the other side of the mirror, or he would just look ridiculous. He had been picked up late at night, and Jason could just tell that the sun was almost starting to stretch over the horizon at this point. 

The interrogation room door swung open, and the plump social worker walked in. She had a soft sad smile, and trailing behind her was a man. 

The man didn’t belong in a central Gotham police station. His suit and watch screamed money, and his stance said that is was old money. There was no way in Hell this man worked for Gotham social services.

“Hello again Jason.” The Social Worker said, her name was Ms. Gomez and she smiled sadly at everything. As if Jason were some goddamn sob story. “This is Bruce.”

Jason looked Bruce up and down, he looked like a typical John, and Jason almost wished that was what this was. Because if this man was a John coming to take him away, that would be easier than whatever bullshit the social worker was planning.

Instead of saying anything, Jason scowled darkly at the man. Bruce looked back with tired sad eyes. Why did everyone look so sad?

“Can I go now? I’ve been here hours and I want to go home.” Jason snapped.

Ms. Gomez looked down at the papers in front of her, “And where is home young man?”

No way was Jason going to say he lived on the streets. That was a fast an easy way to get shoved into a foster home. Instead Jason shrugged, “With my mom.”

Ms. Gomez leaned back, Bruce leaned forward.

“Your mom? Catherine Todd?” Ms. Gomez asked. She didn’t wait for Jason to respond before adding, “The Catherine Todd that died five months ago?” 

Well shit. 

“Jason,” Ms. Gomez tried again, her voice softer now. There was a touch of pity, “do you remember when we took some of your DNA to test it in our database?” 

“Yeah, some jerk stabbed me with a fucking needle. Hard to forget.” Jason huffed, rubbing his wrist where the blood had been drawn. It hadn’t hurt, but it hadn’t been fun. Having some creep that close to him, in his personal space and his heavy hot breath rattling in Jason’s ears.

Bruce blinked once at the comment, and Jason wanted the guy to get the fuck out. Because who the fuck was he?

Ms. Gomez breezed on, as if Jason had never swore, “There was a match in our system. A match to your father.”

“Fat good that’ll do. Willis is locked up for four more months.”

“No Jason,” Ms. Gomez said, with a soft pitying voice. She glanced at Bruce, whose eyes looked even more sad and tired by the moment, “Willis Todd isn’t your biological father.”

And what?

Jason blinked at the statement. He knew Catherine wasn’t his biological mom, she had told him many times. But she was his mom in every other way, she had raised him, loved him and cared for him. She would whisper into his hair at nights, say she was so lucky she got to have him, but no one ever said anything about Willis not being his dad. 

Absentmindedly Jason scratched at his arm. Neither of his birth parents wanted him. Jason had always hated Willis, but at least the bastard had taken responsibility for him, staying with Jason and giving him one parent who actually loved him. Willis wasn’t that parent, but he had given Jason his mom, and mom was all Jason had needed.

“So…” Jason trailed off, not sure what to say.

“Jason, this is your biological father. Bruce Wayne is your dad.” Ms. Gomez whispered.

His brain short-circuited, Bruce Wayne’s family founded Gotham. They were the richest of the rich, and Jason is a dirty street rat. 

He can not be connected to Bruce Wayne, there isn’t a way in Hell, because that would mean that Jason is a blood Wayne. Because Jason knew, his blood was tainted by the grime of Gotham, dirty and unclean, there was no way he could be related to that.

His gaze flicked to the tall man, the man named Bruce.

Holy-shit this is Bruce Fucking Wayne.

Bruce looked back with sad tired eyes. Sad tired eyes that were the same icy blue as Jason’s. 

“Fuck that!” Jason yelled, he purposely looked down at the table, a scowl set deep into his face. “ _ Fuck that. _ ”

Bruce Wayne can’t be his dad, because this rags-to-riches bullshit doesn’t happen in real life. It’s a trope in stories, to make people think that they can escape poverty, it doesn’t happen. Especially not to dirty kids like Jason.

“It’s nice to meet you-” Wayne tried.

“Fuck you!” Jason snapped.

There was a beat of silence, Ms. Gomez sighed, looking at the papers in front of her, like they would magically make Jason stop being difficult. Wayne didn’t look upset about Jason’s words. 

“I am sorry I haven’t been able to meet you sooner.” Wayne continued. “If I had known about you, I would have made sure we could be together.”

Jason bristled, he didn’t need Bruce fucking Wayne to come and save him. He didn’t need to be ‘with’ Bruce. Because it sounded like Wayne was saying his mom wasn’t good. Mom had done the best she could, she loved Jason with everything she had, and she gave him everything she could. It wasn’t her fault that the heroin was addicting, it wasn’t her fault that Willis slapped them both around. Mom had been all Jason had, and fuck Wayne for suggesting she hadn’t been enough.

There was a long silence, as if they were both waiting for Jason to say something, and Jason had a lot to say. He could scream at Bruce for being a jerk, could yell that Bruce probably wasn’t even his real father, he could break down and cry about his mother. But he did none of those things, and instead just scowled.

“Bruce has offered you a place to stay Jason.” Ms. Gomez says.

“I don’t want it.”

“It’s not up to you at this time.” Ms. Gomez says, shaking her head softly.

And that’s how Jason ended up in the back seat of Bruce Wayne’s bentley, watching as Gotham whirled past him in a depressing blur.

Jason had been outside of the city a grand total of three times, once on a camping trip with Willis and his mom, one of the few trips that had ended well when they were all together. Once was to a farm just over the town line, and the last had been on a terrifying ride with Willis. It had been almost the same as this one, Willis in the front seat, driving on an endless road, silent as the grave, Jason in the back watching as the car had crept to it’s ultimate destination. They had never reached it, because Mom had called, screaming and begging for Willis to turn around, to return her son to him. 

This time felt the same, with the looming sense of a final destination, and a silent car ride. Jason felt like he was going to die.

“How old are you?” Wayne asked, not looking away from the road.

“Wasn’t it in the file CPS gave you?” Jason snapped.

“It was, but I would like to hear it from you.”

God Wayne’s voice was so tired and sad. 

Jason crossed his arms over his chest, determined not to say anything. If he kept being an ass, kept getting in the way then Wayne would get tired of him, throw him back onto the streets so that Jason could look after himself once more.

Wayne seemed content to sit in silence, so he watched the road and Jason watched as the buildings became less pressed together. Watched as his home and everything he had ever known melted away outside his windows.

“I have another son at home.” Wayne said suddenly.

Jason shrugged, he knew vaguely the details of Bruce Wayne and his adopted ward from the circus. There had been talk when the kid was first adopted about kidnap and ransom, Willis had wanted to be a part of the plan, but never went through.

“I am sure he is excited to met you.” Wayne tried again.

“Yeah sure.” Jason scoffed. No way did some fancy rich boy want his adopted father to take in someone new. Unless Wayne was the type to touch his kids, in which case Richard Grayson would probably be leaping with joy. 

He would figure out the type of man Wayne was when he met the older one, Jason supposed.

“His name is Dick, he’s fifteen.”

Jason laughed, it was loud and echoed in the mostly silent car, “you let your kid call himself Dick? Don’t you think he’s got enough problems already?”

Wayne shifted in his seat, and Jason could see those icy blue eyes look at him in the review mirror. He looked… amused, Jason thinks.

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice.” Wayne smiles, it’s tight and almost forced. “But his parents named him that, and he likes it.”

Jason shifts, crossing his arms over his chest, like it will protect him, “Maybe he’s just a dick.”

“I don’t want you to talk about him that way.” Wayne said, “he gets enough of it at school and he shouldn’t have to deal with it at home.”

Jason scowled a sour ugly thing. He didn’t like being told what to do. Too much time on his own, free of anything like that made him twitchy.

“Nine.” Jason huffed, answering Wayne’s question. Wayne didn’t say anything, just hummed lightly.

A large gate came looming up the road, wrote iron and pitch black. It was decorated ornately, like in a Bronte novel. Jason watched as they opened on their own as Wayne approached. His eyes, bleary from sleep with lids of lead, opened a bit wider at the beauty of the house coming into view.

“This is your house?” Jason asked.

“It’s your house now too.” Wayne smiled. He was trying to come off kind, but the way Jason heard it was condescending. It sent a chill down Jason’s spine, the same chill he got when someone promised him food in return for a few favors.

The house itself if austere and a little cold. It doesn’t feel like a place that is lived in, Jason decides, its more of a museum. With the light of dawn just peaking above the horizon, it cast against the manor even more darkly. 

“I have a guest room that you can take for tonight, and tomorrow you can pick out whatever room you’d like.” Wayne said, leading the tired Jason up a large set of stairs. He lead Jason into the first room on the right, and then pointed down the hall to a doorway, “My room is down there, if you need anything just come and get me.”

Jason clenched his jaw. The door at the end of the hall taunted him, laughing at him. He had no illusions about what would be behind that door if he were ever knock on it. 

Scoffing, Jason turned towards the big room. And Wayne sighed, leaving Jason alone. Jason waited until he heard the door down the hall open and close before releasing a large sigh. He quickly flipped the deadbolt on the door, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

The room was too big, Jason could drown in this room. The air is too thick, and the empty spaces too oppressive. So Jason ran to his window, throwing it open. Outside the window was what looked like a park, not a peak of the city he knew in sight.

Jason suddenly wanted to cry. He hadn’t cried since his mom died, and he wasn’t a baby, he wouldn’t cry here. But this place was too much, he just wanted out, to feel safe and alone again, where he got to decide what happened to him, and when it happened.

The bed in the center of the room called to him, but when Jason looked at it, he saw the beds he had laid in with others. He saw the tear stains on silken pillow, and he couldn’t stand to get into that bed. 

Instead he took a pillow and one of the blankets, throwing them into the corner. His back against the wall, an eye on the door, Jason let himself fall asleep.

* * *

When Jason awoke he was hit with a wave of panic. It took him a few moments to remember where he was, to remember that Bruce Wayne had taken him to his fucking house. Jason’s eyes flicked to the door, it was still closed, and presumably locked, but Jason still felt sick and unclean. 

He stood up from his spot on the ground, looking around the room again with semi-fresh eyes. Light was pouring in from the windows, but based on where the sun was, and the way his head pounded he hadn’t slept long, it was probably still early morning.

In the light of day the bedroom looked even larger, cream walls expanded around him. Jason scowled. 

The room had three doors, and two windows, one of the doors lead to the hallway, and after investigating, Jason found that the other two doors lead to a bathroom and a closet respectively. There was one more window in the bathroom, making the grand total of the exits from the room four, but this was the second floor, and it was probably a twenty-five to thirty foot drop from the windows, so Jason didn’t want to use those exits, unless necessary.

He was still poking around the room, cataloging everything into different categories: things that could help him run away, or useless, when there was a knock on the door.

“Master Jason.” A British voice called from the other side of the door, “I am making breakfast if you would like to join us downstairs.”

Jason went to the door carefully. He heard the lock, disengage when he turned it, but only opened the door enough to peak out carefully.

An old man stood on the other side of the door, he was older than Wayne for sure, balding with a moustache twinged with gray. The man looked at him with a kind expression, which made Jason all the more twitchy.

“It is nice to meet you young sir, I am Alfred Pennyworth.” The man said. He reached a hand out, towards the crack in the door that Jason had, but Jason didn’t take it.

Pennyworth didn’t seem to be offended, instead he put his hand behind his back in a smooth move when he realized he wasn’t going to get a handshake. Jason was still staring at him unsure of what to make of this man.

“I have made pancakes if you would like some, I have instructed Master Dick not to eat them all.” Pennyworth continued.

Jason wanted to say no, but his stomach gurgled at the thought of food. He hadn’t received any food at the police station, and the money he was planning to make off the undercover john was going to pay for a meal. Slowly, Jason slipped out of the room, closing the door tightly behind him, leaving his back to the wall. 

If Pennyworth noticed Jason’s protective stance he didn’t mention it. Instead he a smile tinged at his lips, “Very good then.” 

Alfred lead the way to the kitchen’s and Jason followed a few steps behind.

The kitchen was huge, and smelt wonderful. Jason’s mouth watered upon entry.

“Go sit at the table please, I will bring the pancakes over.” Alfred pointed to a table that already sat a young teen. Jason knew it was Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s ward. “Do you prefer chocolate-chip or blueberry?” 

“No fair Alfie!” Dick Grayson said across the room, “You never let me choose chocolate chip!” 

Jason ducked his head down, and went to the table, choosing the seat as far away from the other boy as he could. Dick didn’t seem to mind, too busy smiling at Alfred.

“You, Master Dick, do not need any more sugar in your diet. Don’t think I do not know about the late night ice cream trips Master Bruce takes you on.” Alfred said dryly, and Dick huffed, “So Master Jason, have you come to a decision?”

Honestly, Jason couldn’t care less what type of pancake he got. He just wanted to leave this stifling house, but instead Jason muttered something about blueberries.

The pancakes were put in front of him when Wayne came down the stairs and joined them. He wore slacks and button up, looking every bit the billionaire asshole that Jason was sure he was. Dick smiled at his foster-father around his pancake, and Alfred handed Wayne a plate of pancakes.

Wayne sat halfway between both Jason and Dick at the table.

“Jason, did you sleep well?” Wayne asked trying to be nice.

Jason shrugged, shoveling pancakes into his mouth. They tasted buttery and light, but Jason didn’t let the flavor stick to his tongue. 

Wayne turned to Dick and asked the same question. Dick smiled talking about how he had a wild dream, and went on about it.

The words started to grate on Jason’s nerves. He wanted quiet, he was too used to being alone, the conversations he had were saved for important things, not pointless drivel. The food that had been piled high on his plate was too much for Jason to eat, but he didn’t want to waste a bite of it, and continued to eat even after his stomach felt like it would burst open. 

Everything was grating on Jason’s nerves, so he when he finally said something it came out as a snap, “Can we drive back to Park Row soon?”

Dick and Bruce both turned to look at Jason. Bruce looked confused, but Dick’s face had an ugly scowl that he quickly schooled away. Alfred had wandered out of the room, leaving the three of them alone. 

“Why?” Dick asked, his tone haughty.

Jason’s grip on his fork tightened, and he looked down at his empty plate, not at Dick fucking Grayson or Bruce fucking Wayne. 

“I wanna go home.” Jason said as if it were obvious.

Dick looked from Jason to Wayne to Jason again, like this was supposed to be a joke or something. Jason’s grip on his fork tightened, but he didn’t say anything, just shoved more food in his mouth.

“Jason,” Wayne started, his voice tight and controlled, but he sounded sad, “I know it’s a lot, but this is your home now.”

Jason sputtered, “You can’t do that. That’s kidnapping.”

“It’s not kidnapping if I am your father.” Bruce countered.

The food in his gut churned uncomfortably. Jason didn’t want a father, he already had something akin to that with Willis and it was shit. He didn’t need someone else taking the role. 

“That was all for show though.” Jason insisted, “For the cops to cover your ass. You can just drop me off back where you found me. I know you don’t really want me.”

Wayne sighed deeply, “Of course I want you. I told you at the station that if I had known about you, I would have made sure we would have been together, I would have tried to be a part of your life. I meant every word.”

“Yeah,” Jason huffed, remembering the boiling rage from last night. Rage that Wayne implied that his mom wasn’t good enough. “You would’ve taken me from my mom. I’m glad that you didn’t know about me, because she actually cared about me. You would have been a dick and forced her to give me up.”

Wayne looked startled, leaning back and looking around the room. His gaze settled on Dick with wide eyes, before he schooled his expression into a blank mask.

“Dick, why don’t you go get dressed?” Wayne asked.

“You sure B?” Dick asked, looking at Jason with thin blue eyes, “I can be back up.”

Jason flipped him off, and Dick scowled at Jason.

“Go ahead Dick, and start on that summer homework.” Wayne dismissed his eldest.

Dick didn’t look happy about it, but took his dishes to the sink and then left the room. He kept glaring at Jason until he was out of the room, and Jason felt the stare like it was a centipede crawling up his arm. He refused to scratch as it, because that let Dick win.

When Dick was finally gone, Wayne started again, “Jason, I know this is going to be difficult for you. Coming into a new home, with me and Dick and Alfred, but I want you to know…” 

Wayne trailed off, as if unable to say anything else. Jason scoffed, the old man couldn’t even get through a five minute talk, how was Jason supposed to believe he is wanted here?

“I want you to know.” Wayne tried again, coughing as if this conversation was physically paining him, “That we are all happy you are in this house, and would have wanted you here as early as we could have, but that doesn’t mean we wish any ill on your family.”

“Did it hurt you to say all that Wayne?” Jason taunted.

“Bruce.”

Jason looked up from his plate, that still had three more bites of pancake, three bites that would make him explode.

“What?” Jason asked shoving a mouthful into his mouth.

“You are going to live with me, you should at least call me Bruce.” Wayne responded.

“What you don’t want me to call you dad?” Jason asked jokingly. 

Bruce stood, taking his plate to the sink and beginning to wash it off. Jason watched in fascination. Seeing someone so rich and famous doing something menial was bizarre. Like one of gossip magazines claiming celebrities are just like us. It rang false even as he watched it with his own eyes.

“You can call me whatever you want Jason.” Bruce said with a sincerity that made Jason feel like they were having two completely different conversations.

It didn’t matter though, because Jason shoved the last two bites of pancake into his mouth. 

He stood taking his dishes, but Bruce took them before he could start cleaning it off. “What’s the point of having a butler if you still gotta clean the dishes?” Jason asked.

“Alfred is much more than a butler.” Was all Wayne said in response. Cleaning the plate mechanically.

Jason wanted to watch it, it was like seeing an alien imitating a human being. But his stomach churred in a violent warning. And the sad look in Wayne’s - Bruce’s- eyes made him uncomfortable.

So instead he said, “yo Bruce, you got a bathroom?”

Bruce smiled softly, as if he had won something, but just pointed down the hallway. Jason went to the bathroom, careful to not run and draw attention to himself. But he barely made it into the bathroom before the blue berry pancakes made a reappearance in the porcelain bowl.

Minutes of heavy heaving left Jason’s throat sore and his stomach completely empty. Jason stood, flushing the toilet and the best breakfast he had had in weeks.

“How are you feeling?” A voice asked.

Jason whipped around, to see Dick leaning against the doorway. The boy looked too cool, jeans and a plain tee-shirt that somehow looked expensive, and a balze attitude. The only thing that didn’t exude coolness and aloofness on Dick Grayson, was the fact that he was glaring daggers at Jason.

“Aren’t you supposed doing your homework?” Jason asked, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Dick watched with thin eyes, examining Jason’s every move. It made his skin itch, to be the subject to such heavy watching. Jason felt like the same way he did when he would shoplift. He could feel Dick’s gaze, watching for the first sign of wrong doing so he could be kicked out.

“I know that look.” Dick finally said, leaning into Jason’s personal space, “You want to run.  _ But you can’t run from him. _ ”

The world seemed to fall away at Dick’s words.

Why couldn’t Jason run away? Had Dick tried to run away before?

Most importantly, are Dick’s words a threat or a warning?

Jason blinked looking Dick up and down with new eyes, searching for signs he had seen before. But there wasn’t a nervous energy around Dick, he didn’t look for exits in every single room, didn’t have that hallow look in his eyes. Didn’t mean shit, Jason knew, but he just didn’t seem the type.

Jason tried to shoulder past Dick, out of the bathroom, because the room suddenly felt too small, under the older boy’s watchful gaze. 

* * *

Jason spent the first half of the day up in his room, looking around and cataloguing everything he could. He tried to pick out what would be easy to nick and what would get him money. He found very little that he could bring with him if he ran, expect a painting that looked expensive, but bulky.

Before running, Jason knew he needed a plan, needed money. There would be no more slipping into the shadows, not with the knowledge of who he was related to. For a frightening moment, Jason thought he might need to leave Gotham. Especially because Bruce seemed intent on keeping him here, when Jason left it would have to be done thoroughly, without a trace.

He was rooting through a nightstand when Alfred came into the room. Jason stopped immediately, feeling like a child with his hand in the cookie jar.

“My dear boy.” Alfred said all prim and proper, “It is time for lunch, would you care to join us downstairs for food?”

_ Food _ ? Jason couldn’t even handle the breakfast they made him, now he was expected to eat  _ more _ ?

“I’m okay.” 

Alfred opened his mouth, and then shut it again as if thinking better about he was going to say. After a moment the man tried again, “May I inquire as to why you will not be eating with us?” 

Did this guy always talk like he was in an Austen book?

But the man was looking at him with these eyes, sensitive and caring. It made Jason want to share.

“It’s too much. I feel sick.” Jason finally said.

Alfred blinked slightly taken aback, “Did you have this problem at breakfast?”

Jason shrugged uncomfortable, he hated how Alfred was looking at him. As if Jason were a gentle thing, something that could break if handled wrong. Jason was many things, but he had never been breakable.

“Would it be better, if you served yourself so that it wasn’t too much?” Alfred asked.

Again Jason shrugged. Apparently, shrugging was Alfred for a hearty yes, because the butler reached a hand out Jason.

Jason stared at it for a moment, as if it were a viper, but eventually he took the hand. Alfred didn’t talk when leading Jason through the manor, but when arriving to the kitchen he pointed to a pot os soup on the stove.

“It is chicken and dumpling soup. I had forgotten to ask earlier if you have any allergies, so if you can not eat it, I have some bread and lunch meats. And we will put the left overs in the fridge, nothing goes to waste around here with Master Bruce and Master Dick, those two could eat forever.” Alfred said absent mindily, grabbing for a ladle.

Hearing that the food didn’t go to waste felt like a stone being removed from his gut. Jason hadn’t even realised he had been so worried about the food left behind after a meal until he was assured that it didn’t go to waste.

“I’ll eat anything.” Jason shrugged in response. 

The ladle and a bowl were pushed gently into his hands. And Jason scooped himself a small portion of soup. Alfred watched with interest, and Jason could see the displeasure at the amount he had taken, but the man didn’t say anything before scooping two large bowls. 

Alfred turned for the door, but Jason didn’t move.

“You aren’t going to eat with us?” He asked.

“It wouldn’t be proper for the butler to eat with the family.” Alfred said gently.

That was stupid. Jason would much prefer to eat in here with Alfred if he had to.

“But Bruce said you are more than just a butler.” Jason argued, “He said so this morning.” 

Having the butler with him, made Jason feel safer. Like there was a barrier between Bruce, Dick and himself. Besides it was weird that the guy didn’t eat with them, especially if he really was more than just a butler.

Alfred stared at Jason a long minute before he finally smiled softly, “This time I suppose it would be okay.”

Jason smiled, and scooped a bowl of soup for Alfred as well, giving him before more than he had. The two walked to into the dining room to see Dick and Bruce already sitting at the table, in the middle of a conversation about elephants. 

"For the last time Dick, we can not keep an elephant on the grounds." Bruce said. When he saw Alfred and Jason, he practically sighed with relief. 

Jason sat down to Bruce's left. He didn't like the location, but Alfred wouldn't take the spot, instead sitting on Jason's other side. 

"Alfred, it has been a while since you've eaten lunch with me." Bruce beemed, when Alfred sat down a bowl of soup before him. 

Dick's face was scrunched up, he tilted his head like a puppy dog staring at Alfred. Jason waited, a hand tight around the body of his spoon, for Dick to say something mean about the seating arrangements. But Dick didn't, instead he blinked and looked at Jason's plate, frowning now. 

"You should eat more." Dick commented. "You're too small and none of your breakfast stayed down."

Jason looked down at his own half-full bowl. His stomach rolled at the thought of eating anymore food. 

Bruce looked to the bowl, then to Jason. The boy could see the calculations running through Bruce’s head. Could imagine the man looking him up and down, cataloging where the skin stretched over his skin weakly. But then Bruce looked to Alfred, who smiled and nodded, almost imperceptibly. 

“What do you enjoy to do Jason?” Bruce asked, clumsily sidestepping the conversation. Dick opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it, and instead just looked at Jason.

The truth was, Jason didn’t enjoy doing much of anything. He used to like reading, he remembered how his mom would scrounge up spare change and take him to local thrift shops, would let Jason thumb through all the books he wanted until he chose one. Those were rare treats, there used to be only five books on his shelf, and they ranged from an old textbook about mythology from around the world, to the Great Gatsby. But since mom died, he hadn’t really read much. The librarians at the local branch, knew him, and knew that his mom died. They couldn’t allow him to take out new books because of it. So he hadn’t picked up a book for about five months. 

But the three members in the room were still looking at him, so Jason shrugged, shoving some soup into his mouth, “I like to read.”

His admission made Bruce look positively ecstatic. Dick scowled slightly, and Alfred just watched with something unreadable in his eyes.

“Well after lunch, I will have to show you the library.” Bruce smiled. 

Jason sputtered, there was a library in this mansion? What the hell?

But Bruce seemed to sense that the conversation needed to be steered back to his other son; whether it was because Jason was uncomfortable with being the center of attention, or because Dick needed the world to revolve around him, Jason didn’t know. Bruce asked a question about Dick’s practice of gymnastics, and Dick went off about his new routine, so Jason took another spoonful of soup, and let the warmth settle into his stomach. It was almost like being home.

When lunch was done, Bruce took Jason to a library. It was the type of library that Jason had always dreamed of having. Rich cherry wood holding stacks upon stack of books. A small sitting area with a couch and and a couple of armchairs, all facing a fireplace. It was the most beautiful place Jason had ever been in his life. And he never wanted to leave.

“Read whatever book you want kiddo.” Bruce smiled, as Jason took in the library with wide eyes, “This is your home now too.”

Jason didn’t even shrink away from the comment, instead he ran towards the books, a finger tracing over their cracked spines. It took him twenty minutes before Jason picked out a hardcover copy of Moby Dick. The pages were thin, and smelt of a library.

“Can I read this one?” Jason asked, because this book looked old, maybe old enough to be a first edition, which was spectacular and amazing. An original copy of such a classic in his grubby undeserving hands.

Bruce was sitting in one of the arm chairs, reading a book of his own. He looked up to see the book in Jason’s hands and smiled.

“Moby Dick, good choice.” Bruce smiled, “Do you need someone to read it to you?” 

“I can do it myself.” Jason insisted, and threw himself down into the arm chair across from Bruce.

“I don’t doubt it.” Bruce laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter there is more talk about child abuse, and underage sex work and a panic atttack

When Jason came down the stairs for the second day at the manor, he went right to the kitchen to find bacon sizzling and a platter of eggs in the center of the table. Dick was there again, like last time, wearing pajamas and looking all together too tired for eight in the morning.

“Are those the same clothes you wore yesterday?” Dick asked in lieu of a greeting.

Jason glanced down, he was wearing fraying blue jeans, scuffed and stained in many places. His red hoodie was zipped all the way up to avoid showing off his tank top. It was the clothes he had been brought into the police station in, he had only been wearing them five days now, expect the hoodie, he hadn’t taken that thing off in weeks.

Shrugging, Jason sat down, and Alfred put an empty plate in front of him, pointing silently to the serving utensils. “Master Jason, what would you like to drink.”

“Water.”

“Alright, and after breakfast Master Bruce and I shall take you to a clothing store. Having just one pair of clothing is really quite unreasonable.” Alfred said putting a glass before him.

Jason was about to argue but Bruce came in with a smile and tired eyes. For a guy who didn’t seem to do much, he was always really tired. He sat down between Dick and Jason, just like yesterday.

“Can I come shopping too? I want some new work out gear, I might have ripped by last pair.” Dick asked sheepishly, looking at Bruce with big batting eyes.

It made Jason’s stomach clench uncomfortably. Dick had been in this house a lot longer than Jason, and understood things better, but still Jason flinched at the ask. He couldn’t imagine what something like that would cost Dick.

Back with Willis, if Jason wanted something, he either had to scrounge the money on his own, hope mom could afford it, or do some favors for Willis. It was easier just to be content with what he had, even if his jeans had holes through the sides.

But, to Jason’s surprise, Bruce just smiled at Dick warmly, “Are you finally going to master the one handed backwards somersault?”

“It,” Dick huffed biting off a large piece of bacon, “It called a one handed backwards _handspring_. And I could do it in my sleep.”

“Uh-huh.” Bruce smiled, taking a sip of coffee, “So why are we going shopping?”

“Jason needs more clothes.” Dick said immediately.

Heat ran to Jason’s cheeks, “I don’t need anything! I'm fine with what I got.”

Dick just rolled his eyes. 

Jason looked down at his plate, which was still empty, his vision blurring. He didn’t want anything from Bruce, he didn’t want to learn what was the price of living here. Instead Jason just wanted to keep his head down, until he could escape.

“I know that you are fine,” Bruce said diplomatically, “But, how about we get enough sets of clothes to make is a week without them needing to be washed.”

Jason opened his mouth to argue, he could keep wearing the clothes, even when they weren’t washed, but then he got an idea. If he was in Gotham, shopping around, Jason might be able to run off. To disappear into a crowd and find his way back to his corner.

“Fine, but I don’t have to be happy about it.” Jason said.

When Bruce laughed at Jason’s words, Jason looked down at his plate again, face red again. He was surprised to find his plate now had a portion of scrambled eggs on it, and two strips of bacon. There wasn’t a lot of food, but enough that Jason could eat and probably feel full. What was strange wasn’t the food, instead the fact that he most definitely didn’t scoop it.

Jason looked up to see who had served him. Dick winked at him, taking a bite of his own bacon.

Not knowing what else to do, Jason scooped the food into his mouth.

When the three were done, Dick was sent to collect Alfred, leaving Bruce and Jason in the kitchen together.

Taking a deep breath Jason asked, “So what am I gonna owe you for the clothes?”

Bruce looked at Jason, with those sad tired eyes. 

“Nothing. I am happy to get you more clothes.” Bruce said.

“Nothing in life is free.” Jason huffed, “So what do you want from me?” 

His own arms wrapped around himself, as if his arms could keep him together. As if the cracks in his soul could be held together with nothing but determination. 

Jason had once accepted help from a man on the street, offered to get him a thick warm coat for the winter months. Jason had been new to living on his own at that point, and February in Gotham was so very cold, so he had agreed. That was the first time he learned that he could sell himself, he remembered how he still felt cold, even bundled up. Like their was a black pit in his chest, sucking in any warmth he would ever have. And the coat hadn’t lasted two weeks, other kids tearing at him, until Jason lost it in a fight.

Bruce looked at him, actually looking into Jason’s eyes. 

Jason could read people pretty well, he could usually look at a John and know exactly how much of himself he had to give. He knew when a person was going to come at him, try to hurt him. But Bruce’s eyes held nothing expect this profound sadness. 

“How about this?” Bruce asked carefully, and Jason waited, “You go out shopping with us, and in exchange I buy you a book of your own, whatever you want.”

“That’s not how this works.” Jason argued.

“It’s not?” Bruce asked, “I want you to come out shopping, and so in exchange I am offering something you would like to do as well. I think this is how it works.” 

Jason opened his mouth, but Dick skipped into the room followed by a more reserved Alfred. Jason supposed, that he could understand Bruce’s argument, and if Bruce was too much of a moron to realize Jason should be paying _him_ , well Jason wasn’t going to correct the man.

They were brought to the car, and to Jason’s absolute mortification there was a car-seat in the back of the Bentley. 

“I am not sitting there!” Jason exclaimed.

“Jay-” Bruce sighed.

“No, Fuck you. That’s for babies!” 

“You are small enough…” Dick laughed. Bruce sent the boy a look, and Jason flipped him off.

“Master Jason, it is against the laws to allow you to sit in the car without one of these.” Alfred said placidly, getting in to drive the car.

“No! I won’t!” Jason shouted, angrily. 

Dick smiled at him, patting the top of his head. Jason tried to bite his fingers, but Dick danced away laughing. He too got in the car, in the back seat next to the stupid car seat.

“Two book.” Bruce said.

“Huh?”

“You use the carseat and I will buy you two books.” Bruce promised.

“Three, because you’ll make me drive there _and_ back.” Jason tried. He wasn’t expecting to drive back with them, he would be long gone by then, but he figured he could also teach Bruce how to not be an idiot in negotiations before he left. 

“I’ll get you four, just for good measure.” Bruce promised, opening the door and having Jason get in.

The drive wasn’t long, Dick kept sending Jason teasing smiles. And aside from the few attempts of generating conversations by Alfred, it was pretty quiet.

They didn’t drive all the way to Gotham, instead they went to a strip mall outside of the city. It would take some careful maneuvering, but Jason knew he could get back to the narrows from here if he wanted.

As soon as the car was parked, Jason freed himself from the embarrassment that was the booster seat. Dick was laughing at him, when Jason finally got out. 

The first store they went to was Macys, Jason expected Dick to go off and get his work out clothes. 

“So what type of clothes are we thinking here?” Bruce asked, but he was asking Jason.

The boy looked around at the store, it was sleek and clean, and not at all what Jason was used to. He hadn’t thought this place was for him. 

“Can we go to a Goodwill, or some other place like that?” Jason asked, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

Bruce looked physically uncomfortable, and it made Jason blush. He didn’t want to remind these people that he was a poor street rat. And now Bruce was looking awkwardly over at Alfred. And Dick was still watching him with a sort of detached wariness.

“Next time Master Jason.” Alfred promised, “But we are already here now, so how about you pick out some new pants?”

Jason didn’t like it, but he shrugged, and Dick pulled him towards the kid’s section.

Jason looked over his shoulder to see Bruce and Alfred, they were talking in the corner, not actively watching Jason. It was the perfect time to slip away, he had wanted to do it after getting the books, so he had something to show for his time with the Wayne’s, but it was a perfect time. Except for the fact that Dick Grayson was holding his arm.

“I can walk by myself you know?” Jason huffed, trying to pull his arm from Dick’s grip.

“I know, but I don’t want you to get lost. This is a big store.” Dick said evenly, but his eyes were dark. There was a steele behind them hard and unbreakable.

 _Shit!_ Somehow Dick realized his plans for running away. 

Dick’s warning echoed again: _You can’t run from him._

Jason wondered, who was actively keeping him from running, Bruce or Dick himself. The answers meant very different things in Jason’s mind.

If it was Bruce that was trying to keep him here, making sure Jason didn’t run away, it meant he was probably some controlling bastard. Probably like Willis. Willis had never cared for Jason, most of the time looked at his son like he was a stain on the wall, but if Jason ever tried to disobey he was in for a serious punishment. Maybe Bruce was like that.

But if it was Dick keeping him from running, that meant something entirely different, something most likely darker. It probably meant Bruce wasn’t as nice as he was pretending to be, and Dick wanted another kid at home to take some of the punishment. Either way, Jason didn’t like it.

Dick pushed clothes into Jason’s hands, they were loud and ugly. Dick even had the nerve to give him bright red colored jeans.

“This stuff is hideous.” Jason complained.

“Then pick out your own clothes.” Dick shrugged, pushing a pair of black jeans into Jason’s arms.

Jason went through the store, systematically choosing the cheapest options on all the clothes. When he amassed a sizable collection Dick pushed him to the changing rooms. 

“Come on Jay!” Dick shouted after Jason tried on the first pair of pants, “You gotta show me! Like a fashion show!”

“Shut up Dickhead!” Jason shouted, through the door. He expected Dick to say something rude in response, but instead, Dick just laughed at him.

“How is it coming in here boys?” Bruce asked.

“Good, I’m all done.” Jason replied, picking out the cheapest seven outfits. He dumped them into Bruce’s arms, and left the rest in the changing room. 

Bruce was smiling like this was all he had ever wanted, and Dick went through the rejected clothes wrinkling his nose. “You didn’t want the Batman and Robin shirt?”

Bruce turned around at that, he looked like he was going to scold Dick about something.

Jason just shrugged, trying to diffuse the conversation before it turned into an argument. Jason might not be thrilled with Dick, might not like the guy, but if Dick was trying to warn Jason about Bruce, the least Jason could do is stop an argument.

“I only needed seven shirts.” Jason said.

“This one is an absolute necessity though.” Dick exclaimed holding up the tee-shirt. It was a cartoonish drawing of Batman and Robin both running. The shirt was red, and the drawings were grainy as if they were supposed to be from an old comic book. It didn’t seem essential at all.

“Dick, if he doesn’t want the shirt-” Bruce started.

“Come on Jay!” Dick said, he had a strange teasing glint in his eyes, like this was a joke, “Robin is the coolest don’t you think?”

The shirt was shoved in Jason’s face, soft cotton pushed against his nose. Jason liked Batman and Robin just fine, he had even met Robin once when he was on the streets. But he never showed his support for them openly, not in his neighborhood, where most people were very actively anti-vigilante and anti-cop.

“He needs it B.” Dick said with a solemn reverence.

But Bruce looked at Jason with gentle eyes, “Do you want the shirt chum?”

Honestly, Jason didn’t care one way or another, but Dick clearly really wanted him to have it. So Jason shrugged half-heartedly saying, “I guess an extra shirt wouldn’t hurt.”

Dick whooped in excitement, and Bruce just smiled softly. He went to pay for the clothes, Jason followed, but didn’t get far.

“Hey Jay, how about you and Alfred head over to the book shop. I’ll meet you there after I’m finished here.” Bruce asked softly.

Alfred appeared how of nowhere behind him, “Let’s go Master Jason. Master Dick, would you like to join us as well?”

Dick smiled and followed behind them, Jason looked behind him at Bruce, who smiled and waved moving towards check out. 

Barnes and Noble was giant, it smelt of books and Jason honestly thought he was in heaven. He ran first to the fiction section, looking at each book, reading the back or the inside cover carefully. 

He stood in the store for half an hour carefully picking out which books he should buy. Alfred and Dick watched him as he flitted from aisle to aisle, but didn’t say anything just let him decide. There were more books here than Jason knew what to do with.

He finally decided on the four books he wanted: _Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy_ , _Pride and Prejudice_ , _The Call of the Wild_ , and finally the first Percy Jackson book. He only chose the last because of his fond memories from his mother, who read the book to him aloud when they had checked it out from the library. He remembered her voice, as she read over the funny lines, remembered as she tried to give each character their own distinct voice, but forgot about them halfway through. 

Jason went to find Bruce and show him the haul but stopped at the newspaper selection. This store had a variety of papers, from the Daily Planet to the Gotham Gazette. It was the later that drew his attention, with a striking headline.

**Batman Leaves Three Child Molesters in Critical Care.**

The picture was of a man in a hospital bed, a man Jason knew all too well. He had two broken arms and a split lip, his hand cuffed to a hospital bed. Jason stared at the picture, seeing his pimp laid up in a hospital bed. 

As far as pimps went, Jimmy wasn’t the worst. He took too much off the top of Jason’s sales, but he always made sure Jason had enough food to make him through the week, and when he could, Jimmy would set Jason up on his couch for the low fee of a single blow job. He had helped Jason get started, and even though the leering looks the adult sent him made Jason feel hot and cold all over and sick to his stomach, he didn’t want the man hurt.

His hospitalization and probable incarceration didn’t bode well for Jason either. If he ran from Wayne, there was no way he could stay on Jimmy’s couch any more.

“You have the taste of an old man.” Dick laughed shaking Jason from his thoughts. Jason tore his gaze away from the magazines to look at Dick. If Dick noticed Jason’s distraction he had the grace not to mention it, instead he steered Jason towards Bruce and Alfred who were both browsing the mystery section.

When the pair arrived Bruce put down the book he was looking at and smiled at them both encouragingly. 

“All set?” He asked with a smile. Jason nodded, his mind still on Jimmy and Batman. This time Jason went with him to check out, not wanting to let the books out of his hands.

* * *

Jason arrived back to Wayne Manor and decided he needed a plan. He dropped his new clothes and books off in his room, stuffing them in a trash bag and putting it next to the pile of blankets he made on the floor. If he needed, he could grab them and run.

But Jason was having a hard time making a plan to escape. Maybe it was because he found life at Wayne Manor… interesting to say the least. Never was anyone outwardly cruel, but Dick’s warning echoed in his head. 

_You can’t run from him._

Had Dick tried to run from Bruce before? 

It didn’t seem like it. Whenever Jason watched them interact it didn’t seem like coercion. If anything Dick seemed extra protective of Bruce. Whenever the three were in the same room, Dick would watch him like a hawk. As if the glares would keep Jason away from his father. Not that Jason minded, he was still wary of Bruce, unsure of what the man wanted. Especially because Bruce kept saying all he wanted was for Jason to feel safe and happy in his new home.

Bruce seemed to be a happy guy most of the time. But Jason watched carefully, sometimes the billionaire would get this look, a thousand miles away with something dark in his eyes. 

Jason could tell that Bruce had issues, but the man had yet to turn those issues onto him. He was clearly tightly wound, ready to break at one point soon. But he never showed the Jason any aggression, nor did he show it to Dick when Jason was in the room. Which was worrisome, anyone with the pent-up emotions that Bruce had would snap sooner or later.

The only person in the house that Jason had a sure opinion of, was Alfred. Jason liked Alfred. He seemed to have his shit together, and didn’t bother Jason with small things. Alfred did keep putting out non-perishable foods, and insisting Jason could have them whenever he wanted. It was a little annoying, because Jason didn’t want to be reminded that he needed more, that he didn’t have enough. But Jason now had several granola bars in trash-bag.

So far Wayne Manor was good. So of course Jason had to go and fuck it up.

It was only three days into his stay at the Manor when Jason crashed into an expensive looking vase. He hadn’t been looking where he was going, to focused on his book, and walked into an end table, which in turn knocked a the vase onto the marble tile floor.

Jason watched it fall in slow motion, watched as the vase shattered into a million pieces, all across the marble floor. Completely ruined. Just like any chance he had in this house.

He dropped to his knees, trying to pick up all of the jagged pieces into his hands. 

Maybe if he could fix this-

Maybe if he could put it back together-

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe.

Jason didn’t notice that the crash had brought everyone careening into the hallway. He didn’t hear someone call his name, until there was a hand on his shoulder.

Jason jerked away in surprise, causing a piece of glass to slice his palm. It stung, and he watched in silent fascination as red blood welled along the gash immediately.

Hot embarrassing tears were running down his face when he turned to look at Bruce, Alfred, and Dick. 

“I’m sorry.” Jason tired, but it wasn’t enough, he was more than sorry that this stupid mistake was going to ruin everything he had created with them. “I didn’t mean- I’m sorry.”

“Jason-Jay relax.” Bruce said, a hand still on Jason’s shoulder. “Go upstairs, we will talk about it in a few minutes.”

He felt his mouth open and close like a fish. He looked to Dick for help-something. But Dick was just watching on with something like pity. So Jason stood up, silently going up the stairs.

This place was supposed to be good, this place was supposed to be better than everywhere else he had been. But Jason should have expected that nothing this good was real. The illusion of a happy family was shattered, just like the vase on the floor.

Dick had warned him, said that there was no running. And now he looked so pitying. Jason knew what was coming, because Dick never looked anything other than haughty or bored. Whatever was in store would be pretty bad.

Jason knew, because, Willis would always say that he and Jason had to ‘talk.’ And Jason remembered those talks well, remembered the bite of the belt buckle on his back, and the stick of tears in his eyes as he took his punishment. Why had Jason thought Bruce would be any different?

Jason by-passed his own room and went right to Bruce’s. He had never been in the man’s room before, and it was as sleek and polished as Jason imagined. It was huge and sparse, like an expensive hotel. The only thing with any personality in the room was a shelf lined with four photos. One of Bruce and his parents, when Bruce was young. One of Alfred and Bruce, the day he graduated highschool, one of Bruce Alfred and Dick standing together smiling, and a picture of Jason, one taken long before he was brought to this house. But Jason didn’t let his gaze focus on that, instead he could the closet. 

He pulled a belt from the closet and laid it one the bed. It was thicker than Wills’ had been, made of thick rich leather, and Jason watched it like it were a viper. Stupid tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as he stared.

A couple of minutes later Bruce came up into the room. He looked at Jason, head tilted as if he wasn’t expecting the boy to be in his room.

“Jay, what are you doing in here?” Bruce asked.

This game wasn’t fun, Jason wanted to scream, but there was something lodged in the back of his throat. They both knew why Jason was here, why did he have to spell it out?

“I’m here for my-” Jason almost couldn’t say it, “My punishment.”

Bruce looked confused, so Jason gestured to the belt on the bed. 

“Jason, what do you think is going to happen here?” Bruce asked, his tone clipped.

And God, Jason hated whatever game Bruce was playing. He wanted to just take his punishment, not have this weird conversation about it. 

But Bruce wasn’t relenting. He knelt down, so he was in front of Jason, but the boy shied away, not wanting to look into those cool blue eyes. 

“You gotta punish me for breaking shit.” Jason mumbled, his words slurred too fast and too slow, panic gripping his throat, “I get it.”

Bruce actually leaned back on his heels, like the words were a shock.

“I’m not going to hit you. It was an accident.”

“But I can take it!” Jason insisted, “I'm not a fucking baby!”

How did this go from Jason willing to take his punishment, to practically begging for it? Shouldn’t he be excited that Bruce was letting him off?

But the more Jason thought about it, the angrier it made him. Bruce shouldn’t treat him like he was a baby, shouldn’t treat him like he is weak. Jason survived so much, he could survive whatever Bruce fucking Wayne threw at him. Sure Bruce was built like a truck, far larger than Willis ever was, but he was a party-boy, according to the tabloids, so he probably wouldn’t hit with the same precision Willis had.

“I can take it.” Jason repeated steely, and in one solid movement removed his shirt to expose his back.

Jason knew there were a few crisscrossed scars from when Willis had taken things too far, and he barred them to Bruce as proof. 

“I’m not going to hit you.” Bruce repeated, his tone darker now a violent edge almost hanging off of it, “I’m never going to hit you.”

“Then what do you want?” Jason screamed, tears finally breaking free and falling down his cheeks in hot heavy shame. “Do you want me to suck you off? Is that what this is.”

If it were a different day Jason might have laughed at how pale Bruce went. Might have chided him for not knowing what a street-rat like Jason was used to doing. But he was too busy pacing the room, not even looking at Bruce.

“Nothing like that is ever going to happen here.” Bruce promised, he reached out to grab at Jason, but the boy flinched away. Bruce sucked in a breath as if it hurt him. “I will never hurt you like that, no one will again.”

“I don’t understand!” Jason pleaded. 

Tears were falling faster, and snot was coming from his nose in globs. His chest felt like it had been ripped open, exposed. 

Suddenly Jason couldn’t breath. He dropped like a stone, hyperventilating. Air couldn’t reach his lungs, his throat was closing. Jason was sure, that he was going to die.

Bruce reached out again, he pulled one of Jason’s hands so that it was on his large chest. Bruce didn’t say anything, just breathed long and deep.

_In…_

Jason still couldn’t breath and this fucker wasn’t doing shit.

_Out…_

Jason would die in Bruce Wayne’s bedroom looking like a total mess.

_In…_

Jason hated him. Hated this. Hated himself.

_Out…_

It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair.

_In…_

It did make sense.

_Out…_

Finally Jason could breath again, but the tears weren’t done. Bruce watched him, his eyes were sad and tired. But he didn’t say a word.

“I’m sorry Jason.” Bruce said, his voice thick.

“I hate you.” Jason responded weakly.

“I know.” Bruce reached out and pulled Jason into a hug. It was a terrible hug, Jason was awkwardly cradled in Bruce’s arms, still without a shit, his face pressed next to Bruce’s heart. He could hear the too-fast heart beat, and sniffled more, but it was the best hug Jason ever had.

When Jason finally pulled back, there was a snot stain on Bruce’s silk button-up shirt. He felt his face go red for sobbing all over Bruce like he was some kind of baby.

But Bruce still looked tired and sad.

The look was too much, so Jason sprinted away, going to his room and slamming the door shut, locking it safely behind him. Bruce didn’t follow, and Jason was all too grateful, and he pushed his back against the door to his room like a barrier to the outside world.

Jason stayed in his room past dinner. Alfred and Dick had both tried separately to coax him out. Dick had told him he needed to eat, and Jason had screamed profanity through the door until Dick huffed upset and left. Alfred had said that Jason needed to get his wound cleaned, but in the attached bathroom there was a small first aid kit, which Jason used, bandaging his bleeding palm.

Jason fell asleep with his back pressed against the door to his room. It was a fitful rest, one he woke from several times. Once at three in the morning, Jason could swear he heard shuffling outside his door. But no one knocked, and Jason eventually fell back into a fitful sleep.

* * *

It took Jason a full day to leave his room again, he slunk out and carefully avoided everyone in the house. Then Jason started to map out Wayne Manor. He didn’t have a paper or pen, so he instead committed it to memory.The manor had five exits on the first floor, not including the various windows. There were five paths that Jason could escape from. Every time he walked into a room, Jason meticulously planned how he would escape if he needed to. 

His exploration also lead him to small valuable things he could steal away if need be. He didn’t take anything yet, just made a mental note of where all the easy valuables would be when he needed.

Surprisingly, Jason found that he didn’t want to need them. He wanted to stay here, in this big home that had Alfred and Bruce and even Dick. He wanted to know for sure there would be food if he needed, and a warm place to curl up at night. He wanted to stay and read and read and read in the large library.

Jason was wondering the grounds, trying to memorize the lay out when he came to an indoor gym. 

An indoor gym? What else could Bruce afford? A movie theater? An indoor pool? A museum?

He could hear grunting coming from the gym, and Jason couldn’t help but look inside. Maybe he could see what Dick was so afraid of, what the older boy was warning him about. But instead of anything violent, when Jason opened the door he was greeted by Dick, who seemed to be flying through the air.

Never before had Jason felt the need to call something beautiful, but Dick’s movements were agile as a birds. He flipped through the air, back flips and front flips, his feet barely glancing off the floor.

Jason stepped into the room, intent on getting just a little bit better of a look, but the door banged behind him.

Dick stopped suddenly, turning to look at Jason.

Dick looked different in that moment. His hair plastered to his face with sweat, and a tank top showing off corded arm muscles that no teenager had a right to have. Gone was the haughty boy who seemed to think he had something to prove, and instead was a smile. Until his eyes found Jason, and then the frown was back.

“What are you doing in here?” Dick asked a little too harshly.

“That looked cool.” Jason responded, and immediately wanted to hit himself in the face. Dick probably though he was some kind of loser. He said that the gymnastics routine looked _cool._

Dick laughed, and Jason face turned bright cherry red. He looked anywhere that wasn’t Dick’s jovial face. Which meant looking at Dick’s shoulder, which had an handprint shaped bruise.

Something like understanding came over Jason. Bruce didn’t hit Jason, maybe because Jason was his by blood, maybe because he was too new in the household, but Bruce did hurt Dick. It made Jason sick, especially because of how clear it was that Dick looked up to Bruce like he was some sort of hero.

And sure, Dick might be… well a dick, but nobody deserved to be hurt by someone they look up to. And Jason decided that he had to protect the bubbly boy.

“Want me to teach you dow to do it?” Dick asked, looking almost excited. 

The smile on Dick’s face made Jason’s chest tight. He wanted to make sure Dick was always this happy. And so, even though the thought of flipping around like Dick had been made Jason’s stomach a little queasy, he decided that he would learn.


	3. Chapter 3

Jason was avoiding Bruce now, it wasn’t that he was scared.  _ He wasn’t _ ! It was just he would rather no risk getting hurt if he didn’t have to. But he also didn’t want to leave Dick alone if he could help it. It was a delicate line, that everyone was noticing.

He fell into a normal routine, which was nice, something he had never really had before. Almost every morning, Jason was one of the first up, except for Alfred, who Jason was almost positive didn’t sleep because he was always there. Jason would help Alfred make breakfast and wait for Dick to come down.

Alfred was another person Jason was subtly avoiding. While he didn’t think the old man was actively hurting Dick, he wasn’t doing anything to stop the abuse. So Jason limited their interactions making breakfast, in the early morning, and nothing else.

It hurt to snub the old man, he seemed resigned to being treated badly. Which made Jason feel like a pompous prick, but he wasn’t going to interact with someone who doesn’t stop the abuse of a kid.

At breakfast, Jason had changed his seat, so that he was between Dick and Bruce, as if his presence was going to save Dick from getting hurt. Bruce tried, awkwardly to make conversation, and Dick would answer with the same enthusiasm he had before, but now he would watch Jason carefully during the interactions.

When breakfast was over Jason followed Dick to the gym.

Jason both hated and loved this part of the day. His body screamed at the weird stretches that Dick insisted were essential, and he ached all after doing the easiest of maneuvers, but Dick loved teaching, even if he was starting to get annoyed with Jason.

That wasn’t to say that Dick was a good teacher.

“So then you just flip.” Dick said.

Jason was standing in the center of the gym, his legs shoulder with apart. Dick didn’t give instructions on how to get from point A to point B, just that it needs to be done.

Not knowing what else do do, Jason tried jumping upwards, and arching his back it the hopes that it would get him the right momentum. It didn’t, and instead of a flip, Jason fell on to the mats. His back slammed into the floor, his entire body aching.

Above him, Dick was covering a laugh. The older boy came over, offering a hand to pull Jason up.

And then Jason was in the same position, with Dick telling him again to just flip.

Throwing his hands up in frustration, Jason sighed, “I can’t do it Dick.”

“Then why are you following me everywhere I go? What do you want from me?” Dick snapped. Jason didn’t blame him, if some smelly kid started chasing Jason around, Jay would have kicked the punk to the curb weeks ago.

But Jason couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t say to Dick ‘you’re the nicest guy I have ever met and I wanna make sure Bruce Wayne isn’t hurting you.’ He didn’t know how to tell someone he was worried and that he cared. He didn’t know how to tell Dick he has been in the same situation, a parent who he was desperate to please, one who only hurt him in return.

Those words got stuck in his throat, when he tried to say them. 

“Whatever.” Jason huffed instead, turning on his heels and leaving the room. He could hear Dick calling after him, but Jason just stormed away.

He stormed about the manor for all of five minutes, before realizing he couldn’t leave Dick alone. So Jason went to his bedroom, grabbing the book off the nightstand, and went to sit by the door outside the gym.

Lost in the book, Jason didn’t notice Dick until the boy tripped over Jason’s legs hours later. 

How Jason didn’t notice Dick before the boy had come near he didn’t know, because Dick smelt of sweat. It was a tangy bitter smell that Jason knew too well. He scrunched up his nose, looking at Dick decidedly. 

Dick was looking back at him with a confused tilt of the head. Like a stray puppy when its offered food.

“What are you doing?” Dick asked, not harshly.

“Reading.” Jason showed the cover of his book off. 

Dick just sighed and threw his hands to the air, “I’m going to take a shower, you gonna follow me there too?”

It was meant as an insult, a thinly veiled snub to Jason’s new hobby of stalking Dick; but Jason just stood up, tucking his book under his arm. Jason nodded, ready to move but Dick stood watching him, there was a calculating look in his eye.

They stood outside the gym for a long few moments, until Jason started to shift. It felt like he was being examined under a microscope, the way Dick watched him. A faint blush colored his cheeks, and Jason realized he sounded like a scared kid, like the kids even younger than he on the street who looked up to any other kid around. Jason wasn’t one of those kids, he wasn’t hoping Dick would protect him, it was the other way around.

“Do you think you will magically get clean if you stand here?” Jason asked, talking first felt like losing.

Dick grinned wolfishly, but said nothing. Marching up the stairs to Dick’s room, Jason let his mind wander.

He wondered why Dick would let Bruce keep hurting him. Jason had run from the first foster home he had been placed in, away from heavy hands. The only reason Jason hadn’t run from Willis was because he had something worth more than the pain, his mom. From what Jason could tell Dick didn’t have anything to keep him in the manor.

They arrived outside Dick’s room, Jason flopped down on the ground next to the entrance, a guard dog. Dick said nothing about it.

Maybe Dick was afraid of living on the streets, Jason thought. Dick wasn’t born rich, but he wasn’t born into crime either. Dick might be too scared to live on his own, too scared to not know where or when his food might come from.

If that was the problem, Jason would take care of him. Jason learned all the tricks, which shelters didn’t ask questions about parents, which restaurants gently bagged thrown away food instead of heaping it in with the rest of the trash. Jason could take care of Dick if that’s what he needed.

Jason would take care of Dick. He had done it for his mom when things were real bad. Dick wouldn’t have to do any of the unsavory jobs, Jason could take care of that. Afterall, Jason was already soiled, dirty, ruined. What did it matter if he was broken some more?

Dick’s only job would be to be safe, and Jason was sure, he could protect him.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair most nights, not for lack of trying. Alfred was trying to push a little bit more food onto Jason every day, which he did by making the most delicious food Jason had ever had. Bruce would ask questions to both the boys, and Jason resolutely wouldn’t answer, alternating between looking down at his plate and glaring daggers at Bruce whenever the man looked over at Dick. And Dick, who had surprisingly more smarts than Jason gave him credit for, was being silent, watching the interactions of the house.

“Hey Jay.” Dick said suddenly, interrupting Bruce’s questioning, “Do you want to have a movie night tonight?”

Jason snapped his gaze from Bruce to Dick. The older boy was smiling wide, bright as the sun. Jason remembered movie nights with him mom fondly. They watched whatever was on cable and sometimes she would let him stay up until the wee hours of the morning. Those were memories that brought a warm haze to his chest and his belly, a warm haze that Jason desperately wanted to keep.

“Sure, okay.” Jason shrugged.

“Awesome! I’m gonna tell Alfred we need popcorn. Bruce, can you show him where the theater is?” Dick beamed.

Dick danced out of the room before Jason or Bruce could say something about it, even though both clearly wanted to. Bruce looked from the door Dick had just left to Jason, and Jason was looking at the plate before him.

“Jason-” Bruce started, but Jason was already shaking his head.

“No, I don’t need your help. I can find it on my own.” 

“I’m sure you can.” Bruce mused, “But I wanted to ask you a question.”

There was a long pause, no one speaking. Jason still stared at his plate, which had been picked clean, he could feel Bruce’s gaze boring into him. He waited for Bruce to speak, to yell, but nothing happened. Just soft breathing and the methodical ticks of a grandfather clock kept the two company.

“What?” Jason asked finally/

There was another long pause, this one made Jason even more uncomfortable. He stared anywhere other than Bruce, fidgeting in his seat. He hadn’t been in the room alone with Bruce since the day he broke the vase, and his cheeks glowed with the memory of it.

“Did I do something to upset you?” Bruce asked, his voice calm and calculated.

Jason almost burst out. He had anger in his chest, a bird flapping desperately at his ribcage to be free, but there was also fear lurking in the background ready to swallow that anger. 

He wanted to confront Bruce, to stop him from hurting Dick, but he was scared. Bruce is big, and the bruises he sees on Dick, means he can hit hard. And Jason just doesn’t want to anger the man. Not if he doesn’t have to.

So Jason crossed his arms over his chest, holding himself together, and said nothing.

Bruce sighed, shifting in his seat, but the man tried again, “Is it because of what happened the other day? Because I am sorry that it happened.”

Hot shame welled in Jason’s chest as he thought about his meltdown. Jason hadn’t cried like that since his mother died. He shifted in his chair, trying not to look like a complete fool.

But Bruce didn’t seem angry, Willis used to get tired quickly of Jason’s weakness. He had said that Jason needed to grow up, that men don’t cry especially not Todd’s. Jason supposed he wasn’t really a Todd, maybe Wayne’s do cry.

Jason was noticing a lot of differences between the Todd household and the Wayne household.

“Are you going to show me where the theater is or not?” Jason asked roughly, tears catching in his throat.

Bruce sighed, but didn’t look upset. Instead the man stood up from his seat and gestured for Jason to follow.

The theater was in a room tucked in the back of the house, it was clearly well used by Dick, and possibly Dick’s friends. Blankets were stacked in the corner, fuzzy and warm and there were a collection of bean bag chairs all facing the TV. Dick was in front of the TV bending over flipping through movie titles.

Bruce paused right outside the door. Fear choked at Jason’s throat, was Bruce watching the movies with them?

He watched cautiously as Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly. Dick looked up.

No one moved for a second. All frozen waiting for another to break.

“Bed time is at nine thirty.” Bruce finally sighed. He looked annoyed at himself, as if he wanted to say more.

“But-” Dick started.

“Bed time is at nine thirty tonight Dick.” Bruce answered forcefully. It made Jason skirt back from the man more. That tone, while not menacing, was deep and commanding. Bruce noticed, because of course he did, and sighed, “I think we all need some rest tonight.”

Jason’s head snapped between the two like he was watching a tennis match. Bruce was looking cool and calm, while Dick seemed angry and upset. Jason supposed that nine thirty was early for a fifteen year old to go to his room, but he didn’t understand Dick’s anger about it.

Suddenly Jason realised why he never caught Bruce in the act. The abuse was happening at night, when Jason hide behind locked doors, Dick was getting hurt. 

Scenarios swam around Jason’s head, of Bruce slipping into Dick’s room at night. Of Dick being forced into Bruce’s room. Why hadn’t Jason seen it before?

“You wanna pick the movie Jay?” Dick asked, snapping Jason from his thoughts. Apparently Bruce had left the two alone.

Jason shrugged telling Dick to pick whatever, before settling in a bean bag. Dick flopped in the bean bag closet to Jason, he was grinning like a loon, talking about random things. Jason let the words buzz in the back of his brain, actually thankful for the noise, it was comforting, it proved Dick was here next to him.

Dick chose an animated movie about a girl from China joining an army, but Jason was only half paying attention. He was too busy trying to come up with a plan to save Dick.

* * *

Jason’s heart thumped in his chest, this was by far the most terrifying thing he had ever done. He didn’t even know how to do this.

He knocked twice, two quick short raps on the door before he lost his nerve.

Dick opened his bedroom door, and looked down at his night time visitor with confusion. Purposefully, Jason had dressed to look younger than he was, in his pyjama set and rough bed head, carrying a blanket in his arms. A strategy he used to use when begging, look as young and innocent as possible and take the fools for all their worth. It worked, because as soon as Dick saw him, his face softened.

“I-” Jason started but the words caught in his throat. It was embarrassing to ask, even though he wasn’t asking for himself. “Can I sleep in here with you?”

Dick blinked, “Did you have a nightmare?”

Jason could feel the blush heat his face. He wanted to snap at Dick that he wasn’t a child, and therefore didn’t get scared of his nightmares. But that would be counter intuitive to what he was trying to do. So he just nodded mutely.

Dick opened his door more, letting Jason peak into his room. It was decorated with clashing colors, sports jerseys hung on the wall for different Gotham teams. Knick-nacks and phots covered every square inch of space, the clutter made the room look smaller than it was.

“I get nightmares too.” Dick confessed, stepping into his room. Jason assumed he was allowed to follow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jason shook his head mutely, there was nothing to talk about.

Instead Jason said, “I can sleep on the floor.” 

“Are you kidding? My bed is big enough for the two of us.” Dick waved Jason off.

Jason stared at the bed, it was big. It made Jason’s heart clench and his eyes water. It reminded him of silk sheets collecting his tears, open mouth forced into a pillow. Skin itching, like there was something living inside of him, Jason clung to his blanket tighter.

“I used to share a bed with my Baba and Mama.” Dick continued unconcerned by Jason, “When we lived in the circus our trailer was too small to fit two beds, so we just slept together. I would fall asleep listening to their breathing. It took months after I first came here to get used to it only being me in bed.”

Dick sat on his bed.

Jason steeled himself. Dick wasn’t going to force him to do anything, he reminded himself. And he crawled into the bed.

It was heavenly, felt like sleeping on a pile of feathers. Jason wondered if this was how beds were always supposed to feel like, or if this is just a rich person bed. The sheets were warm around him, lulling his eyes closed, and Jason had to fight heavy lidded eyes.

“You don’t talk about your parents much.” Jason said.

Dick’s face was softer in the glow of the lamp light, he looked sad. 

“They were the best, I miss them more everyday.”

Jason didn’t know how to reply, everything he could think to say was empty. What could he say, that he was sorry. Just empty words. But he also understood the bone deep sadness in losing someone you love. He wanted to tell Dick that he understood, that he felt the same.

“That sucks.” Is how Jason finally replied instead.

“Yeah.” Dick whispered.

Dick finally looked at Jason, his eyes careful and calm. The boy was smiling, albeit a watery smile, and he brought the blankets up to Jason’s chin.

“I always wanted a baby brother.” Dick mused, ruffling Jason’s hair.

“I’m not a baby!” Jason huffed.

“Course not.” Dick teased, but then he turned serious, looking at Jason with eyes that could burn a thousand suns, “I’m gonna take care of you, I’m not gonna lose you like I lost everyone else.”

This whole time, Jason thought he was on a mission to protect Dick, but Dick was taking care of him. Did that mean, Dick was taking punishments for Jason, so Jason didn’t have to.

A part of him wanted to be angry about Dick treating him like a child. Insinuating that Jason couldn’t handle it. But a bigger part of him felt a wave of fierce loyalty and happiness. No one has ever done something like that for him.

“Go to sleep  _ dester' edre. _ ” Dick whispered, his voice filled with…  _ love? _

Emotions passed through Jason, emotions he wasn’t sure he even knew the name of. A flash of warmth, a splash of lightness, and a sprinkling of bitterness all churning in Jason’s chest. The result, was Jason staring at Dick with wide tear pricked eyes, feeling loved for the first time since Catherine.

Jason closed his eyes.

He slept deeply in Dick’s bed, and wasn’t roused by any night time visitors. When he awoke the next morning, yawning and stretching out in the sun, Jason realised he couldn’t sleep in Dick’s bed every night. He needed to find a permanent solution to stop Dick from getting hurt.

But Jason had no idea what that permanent solution could be.

He could try and get Dick out of there, however calling social services made Jason itchy. It went against everything he had ever known and done.

Jason could try and convince Dick to run away. The two wouldn’t go far, not with the money at Bruce’s disposal.

Jason went on like this, his mind coming up with a scenario, only for it to be shot down. He didn’t speak, didn’t really notice what was going on, even when Dick took his hand gently, and lead him down to breakfast. 

Alfred did not mention Jason’s lateness, but he did grin at the two boys holding hands. 

When Bruce came in for breakfast he looked exhausted, even more tired than usual. Dark bags hung heavily under Bruce’s eyes. As if he had been waiting up all night.

But what was he waiting for? To sneak into Dick’s room? Or for Dick to sneak into his?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dester' edre means bird in Romani. However, Romani is a collection of many different dialects, so I could be wrong. It was very hard to translate.


	4. Chapter 4

Jason’s paranoia grew, he didn’t want to leave Dick alone for a single second, and Dick seemed to be getting annoyed about it. Realistically, Jason couldn’t sleep in Dick’s room every night, not without arousing suspicious from Wayne. So instead he kept his door open, and tried to stay awake watching for someone to leave or enter. He never caught anyone, usually falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning.

None of it was working, and it frustrated Jason to no end.

Desperately Jason attempted to reconcile the Bruce who had held him sobbing, who promised that no one would hurt him, with the bruises left on Dick’s skin. How could a man seem so adamant not to hurt one boy do the same to another?

He had a couple theories, mostly that Bruce didn’t want to hurt someone that shared his DNA. Or that Bruce was waiting until Jason was more comfortable here before starting to hurt him. Either way, it made Jason’s skin itch, as if it was too tight around his bones.

Mornings stayed the same, months of conditioning himself to rise with the sun, meant that Jason was getting little to no sleep. He was more cranky and irritable in the mornings now, which came to the delight of absolutely no one.

“Young Master Jason,” Alfred said, passing the pancake batter for Jason to stir, “You don’t seem to be sleeping. Is there something I can do for that?”

 _Get Bruce to stop hurting Dick_ Jason wanted to say. But the words caught in his throat, there was no way that Alfred didn’t know, and even if the man was kind to the children, he was still loyal to his boss. 

Instead, Jason simply shook his head mutely.

Alfred sighed, a long suffering sound.

“Master Jason, if you tell me what’s wrong I can work to remedy it. Growing boys need their sleep.” Alfred tried again.

Jason was saved from saying anything when Dick came into the kitchen. He had a black eye, it was a deep purple, puffy ans swollen. Jason’s breath stuttered, but Dick was smiling brightly.

Pancake batter forgotten Jason ran over to Dick, his small hands reaching up to the bruised face. He didn’t touch Dick’s bruised skin, his fingers just ghosting over the injury. Because touching it, seeing Dick wince at even the gentle touches, would make this real, would mean Jason failed to protect him.

Anger welled in Jason’s chest. It exploded within him like a firework, sizzling inside of him even after the initial boom. The anger danced with his own guilt. Jason knew something was happening at night, knew that was when Dick would be getting hurt, but he had fallen asleep. He hadn’t been there to help Dick. So ultimately, this was his fault.

“What happened?” Jason asked, his voice tight and angry.

Dick was smiling, care free and easy, but Jason saw the way his eyes drifted to Alfred for just a moment. If Jason wasn’t so focused on the ugly swollen eye, he would have turned an accusatory glare to Alfred.

Instead he stood, fingers just barely grazing over bruised skin, waiting for Dick to either lie, or tell him everything.

It wasn’t a surprise when Dick lied.

“It’s nothing, I walked straight into a door last night.” Dick laughed, his voice was calm and even. 

Jason stared for a long moment, willing Dick to break, to tell him everything. But neither boy said a word. For some reason Jason was hurt by Dick’s lack of communication. Was disappointed that the boy wouldn’t help himself.

Alfred cleared his throat behind them, “Master Dick, do you require an ice pack for your eye?”

Dick tore his gaze away from Jason, to look at the butler. Jason didn’t move, frozen in his spot, his fingers still almost touching Dick’s black eye. Dick was smiling wider than he had been, so wide that Jason wondered if the older boy’s cheeks would split open.

“That would be great Al!” Dick smiled all too happily. He then focused back on Jason, his smile turned a little softer, “I’m fine I promise. Next time I’m just gonna turn the light on when I have to use the bathroom.”

Dick lead Jason to the kitchen table, by the hand. Jason allowed himself to be pulled only because he was in his own head, running through escape plans. He had a few that would work only to get himself out, and with Dick’s extreme protecttiveness of Bruce, Jason doubted he could pull the older boy away.

A platter of pancakes was placed in the center of the table. Dick immediately served himself, drowning his food in syrup. He looked sunny and happy, like he always did, anf Jason just didn’t understand.

“Are the pancakes not to your liking Master Jason?” Alfred asked, noticing Jason’s empty plate.

Mechanically, Jason took a pancake and ate it. It tasted like ash in his mouth, but Alfred seemed pleased. 

Dick nudged him carefully, “I’m okay you know?”

It was a whisper, meant to be reassuring, but Jason wanted to tear his hair out. Dick was good, Dick didn’t have the dirty spot on his soul, not like Jason did. Dick didn’t deserve to be hurt. Especially not by someone who wasn’t even his real father.

As if thinking about Bruce summoned him, the man walked into the kitchen dressed for work. Jason glared at him, but Bruce was focusing on Dick’s black eye with a definite frown.

“How you feeling chum?” Bruce asked.

Dick threw his hands up with a sigh, “What is with everyone today? I said I’m fine.”

There was a dark edge to his tone, one that begged for people to stop asking questions. Jason recognized it, he used it on social services time after time, begging them to go away so at least he could stay with his mom. But Dick had nothing to stay for. 

Bruce frowned slightly, but sat in his normal spot at the table. Jason sent him a menacing glare, pushing his own chair closer to Dick’s.

Bruce noticed, his head tilted, looking at Jason with a mask of impassivity. Jason just scowled.

A plate was delivered to Bruce by a tired looking Alfred.

The three ate in relative silence, the only thing that could be heard was the methodical scrape of silverware against porcelain plates. Finally, after a long bout of silence, Bruce stood up, “I will be in meetings all day, but if you need me, either of you, call me.” 

And then Bruce was gone.

Jason felt like he could breath again, which was odd, because he didn’t even realise he hadn’t been. Dick was looking down at his plate, not focusing on anything, and Jason didn’t know what to do, how to help.

So he did what his mom used to do to him, after a night that Willis had been especially bad. Jason reached out and wrapped his skinny arms around Dick.

The movement surprised Dick, who stiffened in the hug, and for an awkward moment Jason thought he was hugging wrong. But Dick quickly relaxed and threw Jason a lopsided smile. 

“Aw, Jay, I didn’t know you cared about me.” Dick was teasing, but Jason still felt his heat up.

“Whatever Dickhead.” Jason bit back his voice holding venom, but his arms still gently wrapped around Dick’s middle.

“Oh real original, I haven’t heard that one before.” Dick laughed.

And Jason laughed too.

* * *

That night Jason went to Dick’s room again. The darkness of the manor was almost oppressive. 

Quietly he knocked on Dick’s door. 

There was no answer.

He knocked again.

Nothing.

Jason didn’t even feel bad when he opened the door to Dick’s room. Didn’t feel bad about invading his privacy.

But Dick wasn’t in his room, it was empty, the bed made up perfectly. No sign that Dick had returned to his room since this morning.

Jason’s heart stuttered, he backed out of the room. He tore down the hallway, banging the door to Bruce’s room open. But the room was just as dark and untouched. No one in sight.

This wasn’t good, Jason knew. Maybe Bruce had taken Dick somewhere, maybe he was going to hurt Dick too much this time, maybe Dick wasn’t coming back.

His mind was spiraling, and Jason knew it. He tried to take in a deep breathing, but it was more like he was gulping for air. Like he was being drowned in the Gotham bay. What Jason needed was help.

The thing about growing up on the streets, was that Jason had an inherent distrust of anyone with authority. Jason knew that money and power just meant you could do whatever you wanted and pay to have it covered up. He had seen crooked cops and dirty politicians. He had even laid in beds with them. So when Jason wanted to go to someone to stop Dick from getting hurt, he knew he couldn’t go to anyone like that.

The only person in Gotham Jason trusted enough to entrust Dick’s life to was Robin.

So Jason set off.

He escaped from the manor easily, and found the bus line that went into Gotham. His leg bounced the entire bus ride, his mind racing.

He hoped he wasn’t too late.

Returning to Gotham proper was like returning home. He smiled, even as the smog infected his lungs. The familiar spray tags on the wall, the smell that was distinctly Gotham. He had missed him, being tucked away in the manor.

Robin had a familiar and reoccurring patrol route, as long as something big wasn’t going down. Jason had memorized it, systematically avoiding it when he had been working the corners. Now he went straight to where Robin took a break.

Usually Robin stopped on the roof of an older apartment building. It was one that didn’t have roof access to the public or the tenants, a perfect place for Robin to pause for a few minutes and catch his breath.

Jason went up the fire escape to the building. It creaked under his inconsequential weight. But Jason didn’t stop moving, tearing upwards until he reached the top most landing.

There was still a story between the top landing and the roof that Jason needed to get up. The landing at the top looked like it was rusting, and the window that lead out to it was dark. Squashing down the panic in his chest, Jason got to work.

Carefully Jason climbed up so that he was on the railing of the landing. He tried not to look down at the aley below, tried not to focus as the railing moaned under him. His fingers found the ledge of the building, to reach he had to go up on his tip toes.

Jason took a deep breath, and then moved one foot so that it was on the outside ledge of the window. It was and inch or two of surface area, Jason’s sneaker couldn’t find traction on the ledge the first two times he tried. The third time, Jason felt confident enough to shift his weight to his hands. 

He pushed himself up, over the ledge of the roof, and tumbling onto it.

Robin had already been on the roof, laying back and relaxing when Jason rolled in. The Boy Wonder jerked up wildly, ready for an attack.

It took a moment for Jason to speak, winded from adrenaline. Robin was staring at Jason, his eyes wide, his face twisting into something Jason could quite read: shock, anger, a bit of both?

“Jay-Jason the Wayne heir. What are you doing here?” Robin asked.

Jason flinched at the name, he didn’t want to be associated with Bruce Fucking Wayne. But there was something to say about Robin already knowing who he is, it helped with the explanation.

“I need your help.” Jason said, the words tasted like bile, like weakness. Willis had tried to beat the weakness from his blood years ago, but here Jason was, still a sniveling weak child crying out for help. This is for Dick, Jason reminded himself, balling his hands into fists and taking a deep breath.

“Help?” Robin sounded vaguely alarmed, “Are you in trouble, do you need me to get you back home?”

“No!” It came out harsher than Jason had intended. “No, it’s not for me.”

Jason couldn’t stop playing with the hem of his shirt, nervous energy refusing to let him stop moving. He didn’t want to look Robin in the eyes, didn’t want to show his hero how scared he was.

“It’s for my brother.”

Robin tilted his head, “Your… brother?”

Fire lit up his cheeks, and Jason focused on the hairline scar on his thumb. Never before had Jason acknowledged aloud that he had found a family with Dick. Never had he said aloud that he wanted to protect Dick from harm, because that’s what brothers do, they protect each other. And now he was telling all this to the guy that Jason would watch from the windows at night, the hero that made Jason want to be someone.

“Yeah, Dick Grayson.” Jason shrugged. 

“Why do you think your brother needs… my help?” Robin sounded wary.

“I think-” Jason started, but his throat felt scratchy, like a hand was gripping his neck, and squeezing tight. “I think he is being hurt. By Bruce.”

There was a long silence. Jason could feel Robin’s stare, and tears welled into his eyes.

Because Jason was useless as a brother wasn’t he? He couldn’t protect the Dick from Bruce, and now he was spilling family secrets to someone. But Jason would rather take the bruises that Dick was receiving, then let Bruce Wayne hurt his brother anymore.

“At night, Dick and Bruce disappear… and then the next morning Dick looks like he got hurt. I- he says he’s fine, but I know he’s not. I’ve seen those injuries before, I used to get them from Willis all the time, fist fights and beatings. He won’t tell nobody, and I didn’t know who else to tell.” Embarrassing tears were running hot down Jason’s face.

When Jason looked up at Robin the hero looked a little pale, his mouth open in silent shock. 

“You’ll help him right? You’ll save him?” Jason pleaded.

Robin dropped to his knee, putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder. There was something familiar in the tilt of Robin’s head, about the feeling of warmth radiating from his skin. But with the white lenses of the domino mask obscuring the vigilante’s eyes Jason couldn’t put a finger on it.

They didn’t say anything, neither of them. Robin stared at him, and Jason looked back down, not able to meet his hero’s eyes.

“Let’s go talk to B.” Robin finally sighed. The hero stood up, turning away from Jason.

Hot embarrassing fear burst from Jason’s chest, “No!”

Robin whirls quickly, worried. Jason was shaking, rocking back and forth his nerves shot. This was too much for him, he wished he was back on the street, wished he was alone again and didn’t have to worry about anyone else. But Jason was too deep into this, he actually cared about Dick, and Alfred, and even Bruce, even though the man hurt Dick.

“Batman, he’s friends with Bruce.” Jason said immediately. It was a widely known secret that Bruce Wayne funded Batman’s escapades.

“I’m partners with Batman, if you were worried about that, why did you come to me?” Robin sounded genuinely curious, but the question still made Jason’s pulse race. 

“You’re good, you saved me before.” Jason mumbled, so quiet that Robin had to lean in to hear him. 

Robin blinked, “I did?”

And Jason knew that Robin saved people every single night, and that there was little chance that he would have remembered Jason, but it still stung to be forgotten like that. It still stung to know one of his heroes, didn’t even know he existed before he got brought in by a rich asshole.

“Yeah. It was me and my friend Frankie. We had tried to pickpocket this man in a suit, but he caught us. Started wailing on us pretty good. I thought we was done for, but then you jumped in yelling about how people can’t hurt kids like that, and how he should pick on someone his own size. Than you took me and Frankie to a clinic you said don’t ask no questions.” Jason shrugged. It had been a good night. Probably would’ve been better remembered and received if Frankie hadn’t died a month and a half later for making the same stupid mistake.

Robin looked hurt, his jaw hung open slightly, like the memory physically pained him.

“Oh Little Wing.” Robin spoke softly, like it hurt him to push the air from his lungs. Then Robin threw his arms around Jason pulling him in for a tight hug. Jason stiffened in the touch, he never liked hugs, especially not hugs that he didn’t initiate, but this one felt… nice.

It was a warm hug, that protected him from all who would ever harm him. Robin pressed his face into Jason’s hair, holding the younger boy tight.

He smelled like sweat, with a minty undertone, and Jason breathed it in. This was the first time since being propositioned by that undercover cop that Jason had felt safe, because he knew Robin was going to save him. Just like Robin was going to save Dick.

“I’m gonna take you back to the Batcave, don’t worry Batman is a good guy, he will help with everything. I promise.” Robin swore.

Robin took Jason to his motor cycle, which Jason though was the coolest thing ever, and gave him a helmet.

The helmet was completely back out, meaning Jason had to hold on to Robin, trust that Robin would take him somewhere safe. Despite the fact that Jasonrarely trusted anyone, he found that he trusted Robin to take him somewhere safe.

While the helmet did black out his vision, it didn’t block out hearing. 

“Agent A,” Robin said, “Call him back, I’m bring a visitor to the cave.”

If he could have, Jason might have been angry with Robin, but all he could focus on was the feeling of the wind whipping around him. Of Robin pressed up in front of him. Of how he was saving Dick.

It took about a twenty minutes to get to the cave. And with the way Robin was zooming through the streets, Jason imagined it would probably take a lot longer if speed limits were obeyed. But once they were inside the cave, Jason could tell. The air was damp but warm, as if it was being heated.

Robin’s cycle came to a stop. The Boy Wonder got off, and a moment later the black out helmet, exposing Jason to the mythic Batcave.

Growing up in Gotham, Jason heard all sorts of rumors about Batman. Some people said he worked out of a basement of a tech building. Some said he was a vampire that returned to his coffin every day. His favorite were the people that thought Batman was really part bat, and spent the time the sun shone in a cave. Jason had always thought people who said those things were dumb or insane, but here Jason was in a fucking cave.

“He really sticks to the theme.” Jason whispered, looking around the cave. Stalactites and stalagmites hung around, and there was a faint chittering of bats in the rafters. 

Robin smiled, almost laughing.

Moments later the Batmobile roared to park next to them, and Batman jumped from his car. He looked over both boys, and while it was difficult to tell with the cowl, Jason could swear the cape crusader was worried about them.

“What happened?” Batman asked, his voice gruff. He was looking at both of them impatiently.

“I found Jason on Monroe Street.” Robin answered easily. Jason opened his mouth to explain that _he_ had saught out Robin, but the hero just kept on going. “He had some interesting things to say.”

Batman stared at Jason, it was a look that made Jason want to cower back.

“Jason thinks his brother is being abused.” Robin said.

Batman’s jaw tightened, and his fingers clenched into fists. Jason looked between Robin and Batman wildly.

“I know he is!” Jason’s shout echoed in the cave, bouncing off the walls, and the weird contraptions.

“No you don’t.” Batman said flatly. Jason looked to Robin, as if to prove that trusting Batman was a bad idea. Robin was staring at his boss, arms crossed. 

There was a long beat of silence. Nobody spoke, nobody moved. Jason felt the walls tighten around him and anger boil in his blood. Why were they not helping him. Why weren’t they moving? Why were they just standing around each other?

“If you don’t believe me, I’ll go somewhere else.” Jason huffed, turning on his heels. He didn’t particularly want to walk back to Gotham, especially without knowing where he was, but he didn’t see another way out of the cave.

No!” Robin shouted, grabbing Jason’s arm. It was a little too rough, and Jason flung himself back. He trusted Robin enough, but a man who doesn’t show his face is dangerous. Robin for his part looked ashamed when he noticed Jason’s reactions, dropping the boy’s arm like it was hot. 

Jason wanted to run, Batman wasn’t saying a word and Robin looked horrified. Worst or all, Jason was no closer to helping Dick now than he had been at the beginning of the night.

Footsteps echoed in the cave. It took Jason embarrassingly long to realise they would have another visitor, because the footsteps didn’t belong to Batman or Robin.

“Who is this visitor?” A familiar British voice echoed through the cave.

Alfred Pennyworth stepped into view, and Jason’s chest stuttered. Well, it was Alfred wearing a domino mask and carrying a platter of cookies.

Jason’s gaze whipped from Alfred to Batman to Robin, his mind reeling. He should have seen it, should have known all along. 

But something deeper belong the dawning realization of who his family was, was anger. Anger that they didn’t just tell him who they were. Anger that he worried about Dick at nights. Anger about the times he agonized over liking Bruce when he was clearly hurting someone else. All of that could have been avoided if they had just told him.

Batman - Bruce- saw the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he knelt down, “Jay-”

Jason shot back, pushing his back up against the Batmobile. His face was red, “Fuck you!”

Alfred made a disgruntled noise, and Dick looked betrayed, but Bruce just nodded. As if the bastard had been expecting this reaction.

“Fuck all of you! How could you?” Jason asked. Tear were welling in his eyes again. Jason wished he could make them stop, he had cried more in the short time he lived with Bruce than he had in years.

Bruce reached out, didn’t touch Jason wasn’t even close, just reached a hand out. And Jason wanted to spit on him.

“You feel lied to.” Bruce said.

“I don’t feel shit! I _was_ fucking lied to.” 

Dick, still in his Robin gear tried to step closer to Jason, but the younger boy barred his teeth, as if he were an animal. Dick froze in his spot.

“I was trying to save you!” Jason whispered, his voice breaking, “And you let me think you were being hurt by Bruce.”

Dick reeled back, “I had no clue you though Bruce was abusing me.”

“Because the question has failed to be asked,” Alfred cut in suddenly, “Why were you out of the Manor and in Gotham at this time of night?”

The words got caught in Jason’s throat. Hours ago he felt like he was on a rescue mission for Dick. Now he was furious for being lied to, felt like an idiot for not discovering that his family were vigilantes. He didn’t think they deserved an explanation. 

“He wanted Robin’s help to save his brother from an abusive Bruce.” Dick answered for Jason. His voice oddly proud, excited that Jason went to his alter ego for help. Excited that Jason referred to him as a brother. 

“I don’t understand, if Bruce is Batman, and isn’t bad why did you tell me I have to be careful of him?” Jason asked, ignoring Dick’s apparent pride in ridiculous things.

“What? I never said that.” Dick responded. 

“Sure you did! You said, that I ‘can’t run from him.’ The first day I was here. Remember?”

“Yeah, because if you ran away it would break Bruce’s heart! I know B always wanted a kid, he didn’t think he would ever get a real one, not with me. But then you came along, Bruce wants a son so much, and I could tell you didn’t want to be here. I was helping.” Dick shouted, exasperated, as if Jason should have known what he meant the whole time.

“You’re an idiot!” Jason said, but hearing that was like feeling boulders be lifted from his heart. Bruce wasn’t to be feared, and Jason could have him as a father. A real father, not Willis and his abuse. 

“Richard,” Bruce said at the same time, “You know that you are my son too, right? Just because Jason is biologically mine, doesn’t make you any less my real son.”

Dick turned to look at Bruce with wide eyes, like he did not in fact know that.

“I am not good at this, but I see you as a son. I love you chum, very much. It doesn’t matter that I am not you biological father.” Bruce coughed awkwardly, like it hurt him to say all of that. 

Despite any awkwardness, Dick’s face light up, like he was plugged into a wall socket. His smile was bright when he bound over to Jason, pulling the younger boy along to hug Bruce tightly. Jason was pushed between his brother and his father, the hug smelled sweaty and vaguely like Gotham smog, but it was the warmest and safest Jason had ever felt.

“Alfred, get in here.” Dick yelled, “We’re a family a real family.” 

Jason who assumed Alfred was too British for hugging, immediately stepped over and joined the hug. 

Jason had found a real family. A father who loved him, a grandfather and a brother who was trying to protect him. Jason never thought he could be happy again after his mom, but in the middle of this group hug, he felt the flutter of warmth in his chest.


End file.
